


Precious Commodities

by littlerumbird



Series: Interstellar Oceans [6]
Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Angst, Betazoid, Empath, F/M, Ferengi, Hurt/Comfort, Imzadi (Star Trek), Romance, Shore Leave, Some Humor, total dorks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:01:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25672468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlerumbird/pseuds/littlerumbird
Summary: Set during the events of season 3's episode Menage a Troi, this will be a multi-chapter fic of missing scenes and expanded scenes within the episode. Chapter one begins with shore leave. Chapter two will address the interruptions.Updated with chapter 5, they finally do their best to make good on a visit to Angel Falls
Relationships: William Riker/Deanna Troi
Series: Interstellar Oceans [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2026340
Comments: 23
Kudos: 81





	1. The Set Up

Shore leave was a precious commodity, and after a long diplomatic conference followed by her mother nearly starting hostilities with the Ferengi… well, Deanna knew she needed a break more than ever. The captain usually gave her a break after intense diplomatic endeavors, anyway, since he knew how it could drain her to balance so many emotions and beings in such intensity for days at a time.

Under normal circumstances, she might have enjoyed going to the Fifth House. Yes, her mother was in perpetual motion, but Lwaxana did keep a quiet mind like all Betazoids. And Deanna had some semblance of rest and privacy in her childhood home. She missed waking to diffused blue and purple light coming through the sheer curtains, the tropical breezes, and a tub the size of a small pool with all of her favorite bath salts and oils. But she simply couldn’t bear the thought of hearing about her status as single, nor be called ‘Little One’ one more time at present.

The counselor part of her brain was reminding her that some of her frustration and anger was simply because she was worn out from holding herself together and managing so much over the last week. She was teetering on burn out if she wasn’t careful. So she’d asked for leave, and she planned to stay with one of her dearest friends.

Deanna had expected plenty of others from Enterprise to take some time on Betazed. They had a few days, and the planet was a widely respected place to spend one’s free time. It was sophisticated, warm, offered plenty of recreation, but was far more family friendly and well-rounded in its offering than, say, Risa. For her it would always be home.

When she walked into the transporter room with her modest suitcase in tow, she was surprised to find Will Riker about to step on the platform. His simple overnight bag made her feel as though she’d over-packed. Like her, he had already changed in civilian clothes suited for the warmer climate, and of course he would be wearing his blue shirt that always brought out his eyes. She could sense in him a jauntiness, ready for diversions of… well all sorts. It made her flush slightly, and Deanna felt a smidge guilty for intruding on his emotions.

“Commander,” she murmured, giving him a nod as he reached for her suitcase and set it on the platform for her and his hand to assist her in the single step. To be fair, she was wearing heels and the platform wasn’t as textured as she would like.

“Counselor,” he returned drolly, his eyes glittering in amusement. “O’Brien, are we waiting for anyone else?”

The engineer shook his head, and seemed to be enjoying the moment before Will gave the command to beam them to the planet.

When they re-materialized at the embassy, Deanna was already firmly aware that she was home. It was so serene, and the woman who welcomed them was relaxed. It was like soaking into a warm bath at the end of a long day. Soothing. Soul soothing.

Will still had his bag slung over his shoulder by its strap and was already reaching for her suitcase. “May I escort you, Miss Troi?”

Her eyes were rolling, but she couldn’t help but return his infectious smile. “Alright,” she caved. “I supposed it’s mere _coincidence_ that you decided to take shore leave as well?”

“More like conspiracy,” he intoned. “The Captain happened to notice that you, quote, _had the good sense to request shore leave_ but he could see I needed orders. And who am I to defy orders and to resist visiting my favorite posting?” He was immensely proud of himself, and she could tell he thought himself clever. Which he was. He was also incredibly charming, and somehow within minutes of arriving in her home world, she felt it tipping slightly and all of the best moments they had shared were rushing to meet her.

The gentleman at the door gave her a flickering question of wellbeing as she passed. Deanna nodded, reassuring him as she was reminded what an odd thing it was to have so many people sharing your thoughts and feelings when you were out of practice in keeping them to yourself so neatly. She was rusty, and it was drawing notice albeit with some grace.

When she first joined the Enterprise, controlling her thoughts and feelings was a habit. But as time passed, there was less need to do it. Data was curious about all of her emotions. She and Will still had something of their link, and they often were more attuned to one another. Truly, she was out of practice. “The captain is setting us up?” she asked in surprise.

He shrugged as he hailed a shuttle. “I… think it might be a little payback.”

“For what, exactly?” she asked in umbrage.

Will’s eyebrows lifted as though he couldn’t believe she hadn’t seen the strategy play out. He sometimes forgot that not everyone was quite as swift in seeing the end game as he was. “I’m remembering a certain vacation we tricked him into taking.”

“ _You_ tricked,” she countered primly, basking in the warm sun as they waited for the shuttle to meet them. “And you sent him to Risa. I’m merely an innocent—”

He had set down her suitcase and was lifting a hand in protest, his palm up. “Whoa, now… I seem to remember a certain _someone_ flat out lying about an impending visit from a certain Betazoid diplomat that more than upped his vacation time table.”

She huffed and then her shoulders dropped in yield. “If this is his idea of revenge, I suppose I should be grateful it involves my favorite places and nothing much worse than a co-conspirator.”

“Thanks,” Will answered dryly. “It’s good to spend time with you, too. I’m so glad we’re friends.”

Deanna winced slightly. It was light and playful, and very much Will. But she knew him too well. Knew about those years he’d raised himself. Had no one for a while except who he won over with charm and bravado. Somewhere in the exchange he’d let go of her hand, so she found his now and enclosed in her smaller ones. “I’m glad you’re here… It… it brings back a lot of memories. Good memories.”

It was there again, that spark between them. So easy to lean into, and she didn’t want to fight it. Not when it was such a stunning day. And they were so long overdue for any shore leave or vacation. Will worked hard, and she always admired that about him. When they first met, it was pure drive and ambition. Now it hadn’t mellowed but it had shifted focus to the ship and the crew. Picard was driven by exploration and had the heart of an anthropologist, but Will’s drive was to protect and serve. He went long stretches between shore leave or full vacations.

“Deanna?” came his voice.

She blinked and looked up to see their minimal luggage was already stowed away, and the shuttle door was open and waiting for her. “Thank you,” she murmured, taking his offered hand and ducking slightly to step in and take a seat.

The first few kilometers were in silence, and she relaxed further into the seat as they began to pass familiar buildings and parks. She’d forgotten how much she missed seeing plants in their natural environment. Yes, she and so many others on board had all sorts of plants and flowers. The arboretum was an oasis for her, and the holodeck could bring up anything she missed. But it wasn’t the same.

“Deanna,” Will began, “I know you’re going to say it’s only Betazed being… Betazed. But I’d like to spend some time with you on leave.” The nervousness dripping from his normally carefully held together bravado was endearing. He was only like this in the rarest of moments with her. “I thought it would be nice to take a walk in the Narissian Gardens, and then we could find a small café for lunch…”

Her smile spread slowly, and she shifted in her seat to face him as her hands found his. “I’d like that very much,” she replied thickly. “I’ll send Xandra a message when we stop. She glanced behind them to the hold. “What about…?”

Will stretched his legs as much as he could in the confined space and let his head come to rest against the cushion behind him. “We can drop it off at my hotel and ask them to hold it until I check in later.” It didn’t escape her notice that he said _I check in_. There was no pressure in his expectations. “Maybe I can finally teach you how to _relax_ and enjoy a vacation properly.”

“Well, I _am_ a good student,” she countered artfully. “I’ll trust you’ll skip the lecture, though, Commander I-Had-To-Be-Ordered-To-Take-Shore-Leave.”

He leaned down now, moving slowly, giving her to protest or shift away before he dropped a warm but chaste kiss to her lips. “Now who’s lecturing whom?” A dark eyebrow lifted in challenge. 

Her fingers lifted to toy with that one lock that always seemed to fall out of place, exploring its texture. “I trust your teaching methods have been peer reviewed?”

Blue eyes gleamed, and he dropped a kiss to the top of her head. “I’m hoping this is a longitudinal study, but it’s going to require a good deal of qualitative research and might involve a hands-on approach.”

Her laugh filled the shuttle, and she let herself relax beside him, her head dropping to his shoulder and letting its steady thrum lull her into vacation mode.


	2. The Let Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be 1-2 more chapters, just depends how things go as I start to write. I realized while rewatching Menage a lot while working on this fic that Betazed has been trying to reach Captain Picard for TWO days to tell him that Lwaxana, Deanna, and Will are missing. So clearly there's a lot we didn't see on screen. Yet again, thank you all for your notes. They really do help encourage me, and sometimes give me some ideas to play with.

Security was a precious commodity, and Deanna is acutely aware of how little security or control she has right now. Moments ago she was teleported for at least the third time in, well… she didn’t know how long it had been. And as she felt herself de-materializing again, her stomach rolled and every nerve seemed on edge.

It took several long moments for her to realize she had been returned to the brig. That it was Will moving toward her as she instinctively backed away. Her legs were like a baby deer’s, colliding with the edge of the padded bench and forcing her to sit down hard. “Gods,” she huffed, realizing she’d lost the blanket again. It’s harder than ever to regain her bearings, and the cold around her is permeating. She drew in her legs, curling up to conserve what little heat she had.

“Hey,” Will’s voice dropped, and he went stock-still, keeping a few feet away when he realized that she’s only now starting to reorient herself. “Your things are right here,” he picked up her dress and her tights that he had neatly folded and stored on the other bench.

Some clinical corner of her mind recognized the coaxing behavior. When she didn’t reach out for it, he settled the items on the bench within reach before he returned to the entrance to glare at their captors, who are engrossed in their chess game.

Her control on her emotions teetered on tenuous, and she wanted nothing more than to curl up in her own bed in the Fifth House under the heaviest blanket she can find and sleep for a few days. It’s the last thing she would’ve expected a few hours ago when she and Will first arrived on Betazed. When they took their stroll through the gardens, and she had sensed the joy and the desire from Will. Emotions that were going to be so easy to give in to. That she _wanted_ to give in to.

Right now, she wanted to kick something. Or punch it. The padded bench is tempting, but it’s probably not as padded as it looks. She should know that because she’s achy from however long they lay there. Whether it was a phaser or something else, Deanna was certain that they had been unconscious for at least a few hours. She’s still struggling to shake off the after-effects of it. It made her feel out of sorts, and had left her with a dull headache.

It was out of respect for her that Will had moved to the doorway. He had not only turned around to give her privacy, but he was also guarding her and staring daggers at their captors. Deanna has never minded nudity, but she detests being cold. It’s always cold on the Enterprise, and she’s adjusted to it somewhat. It was such a relief to be in her home planet, and now she’s on this ship that is far too cold and smells strange. And the Ferengi stripped her not only of clothing, but also of a part of her identity for a second time because the blanket her mother had handed her didn’t make the transport with her.

Every layer of clothing she pulls on helps, but there weren’t enough layers. She struggled to pull on the tights because of the cold, because she’s shaking. And aches and tiredness were wearing down her defenses. Deanna found herself staring at the dress—her favorite dress. A new one. One that she had found earlier in the week in a short break between conference meetings in a favorite boutique in Medara. She loved the beautiful, bold colors and had so looked forward to enjoying a holiday and indulging in all the delights and liberty of home.

“Oh,” she gasped as she struggled back into clothing, pain making itself suddenly known as she tried to slide her arm through the shoulder strap.

It caught Will’s attention, and he rejoined her. “Deanna?”

“I’m fine,” she protested defensively, gritting her teeth as she attempted to get her body to cooperate.

He found the small zipper, and he’s always had this uncanny ability to find those little zippers and hooks. It was something she used to tease him about, even having some dresses specially designed years ago to make a game of it. “Remember what happened to your emerald dress?” he asked softly, persuading the zipper a little lower and easing the fabric around her.

She nodded and swallowed down a surge of her own tumultuous emotions. She’d gotten exactly one night out of that dress. Dinner and dancing. A walk in the gardens, where they had found a private little grove. Eventually his impatience and urgency had overtaken his skill. Later, she’d had the material repurposed into a handbag. But now Will’s hand has found her left arm, guiding it through and completely stopping when she hissed in protest.

“You’re hurt,” the words were blunt and clinical. “Hold still, let me…. I can get this.” He examined the angles and the give of the fabric and stepped close enough that she could absorb a little of his body warmth. He shifted and pulled the material nearly to the point of tear, but managed to get it to settle properly before zipping her up. “Can I see?”

She hadn’t realized that she was holding her arm close until he asked. Instinct made her flinch before taking a short breath and nodding. “It’s been achy since you woke me,” she admitted, unable to bite back a murmur of discomfort even though he’s only lifting the off-the-shoulder-strap to examine it. No bruises, yet, but it’s tender enough that she couldn’t quite put it out of her mind.

“What do you want to bet their _doctor_ ’s idea of medicine is leeches and miasmas?”

The sarcasm was meant to lighten the mood and make her laugh, but she couldn’t even summon a smile right now. “I don’t like this. I don’t like that mother made me leave her.”

His concern narrowed, and it was startling to suddenly realize how intently that concern focused singularly on her. “You’re guarding. Even with a crash course in first aid and triage, I can see that.” His fingers ran over her bare shoulder, trying to warm up her up a bit. “How’s your shoulder?”

“Fine,” came her reflexive answer, and she trembled when he took another step closer before carefully pulling her against him. She tried for a long, painful moment to hold it together before shuddering and letting the gasp and first tears out against his chest.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured into her hair, hands and arms finding their familiar holds and letting her feel his solid presence. She urged him closer, crying silently all while frantically grasping for some semblance of control. They’re stuck on a strange ship. They don’t even know where they are. _He_ has her mother—. “Imzadi,” his mouth was by her ear, voice pitched low and soft for her, "let go for a minute. I’ve got you,” he repeated firmly, tightening the deep hug he has her wrapped up in, knowing she needs the pressure to ground her.

It’s her job to keep everyone sane. Quite literally. Or at least to do her best to keep them sane. She has her own counselor that she meets with regularly over subspace. Honestly, they need more counselors on so large a starship, but the reality of it is only just starting to make itself known. And it will be some time before anyone higher up in Starfleet realizes it’s truly a necessity.

But in these moments she could let herself feel. Feel the weight her own emotions. Rage. Cry. And her body trembles at the intensity that she doesn’t quite know how to name or to expel. The coldness of the room, the ache in her arm, and the intensity of the trade agreements have left her drained of her usual resilience. She’s angry and upset. Frustrated that the universe won’t even let her have a vacation when she needs one. Angry that her own annoyance kept her from oskoids and uttaberries as she’s suddenly acutely aware that she’s so hungry that she feels hollow. And in that moment, she can feel herself deflating.

His arms are there, supporting her and easing her onto the padded bench. Her comforts right now are his presence and the utter disregard of their captors. At least she could have her emotions in some semblance of privacy. For a person who spends so much time digging into everyone else’s minds and motivations, she craves the deepest privacy for her own feelings. She could count on one hand the number of times she’s really lost control of herself on the Enterprise. One of those times involved a ceremonial gong, but she doesn’t want to remember that right now because it reminds her that she’s hungry and that her mother is with… _him_.

“Better?” he murmured into her hair, his thumb stroking her temple tenderly.

She sniffled and nodded, wishing so much that they were able to stretch out and relax, to let him play with her hair while she drifted after they’d had their fill of each other. She wasn’t sure she even had the energy to muster up a kiss right now. “Thank you, Will,” she rasped, and she allowed herself relax against him.

For someone who is so tall and conspicuous, Will could be subtle when he needed to be. But she could sense his attempt at subterfuge, so she still flinched when his fingers ghosted over her left arm. “How big of scene do I get to make over this?” His face was a careful mask of control, but his voice carried a steely coldness.

“Later,” Deanna insisted. “Nothing’s broken.”

“Are you sure?”

Her right hand lifted, and she rubbed her eyes and nodded. “I must have landed on it wrong. Get us out of here, and Beverly can fuss over it later.”

“She’s a professional Mother Hen,” he scoffed before looking down at her and raising his eyebrows. “I could kiss it and make it better.”

It finally earned him a ghost of a smile and a soft sigh. “This wasn’t what I had in mind when I thought about us ending up alone on vacation together.”

“You thought about us alone together?” he’s teasing, but it has lightened the mood.

“I’d rather be stuck here with you than anyone else,” she admitted.

Will smiled before bending down, pressing a light kiss to her bare shoulder and rubbing his hand along her right arm to warm her a bit.

“Human mating rituals are so unnecessary,” their guard was at the opening, appalled and clearly offended that his charges were more focused on one another than on their plight at his hands.

“You should be so lucky,” Will muttered before glaring over his shoulder. “What do you want?” he asked languidly.

The Ferengi scowled, or at least it seemed like a look of contempt. It was still strange to only sense her mother and Will. Deanna couldn’t feel his emotions. And to her, the Ferengi expression seemed to be one of perpetual scowl. Though she knew it was only her bias and their inherent features that made it so. “You are our prisoners. We will ask the questions.”

Contempt practically dripped from Will as he rose to his full height and gave a lazy turn. Sharp blue eyes flicked over the Ferengi before he stalked past Deanna and dropped indolently onto the padded bench between her and the opening. They would have to go through him before they had any hope of reaching her. “If you’re going to starve us, then I have nothing to say to you.”

It was almost comical to see how much it angered the guard to be so deliberately ignored. She and Will settled together, his side pressed against hers to lend warmth. Their captor ranted for a while, stamped his foot, and asked any number of questions. Had it been at a lower tone, Deanna would’ve napped through it. But it was all sound and no force, so she rested her head against Will’s shoulder.

 _Was one vacation too much to ask for?_ she queried, idly tracing the soft purple fabric of her dress.

 _Easy, Imzadi._ His arm slid into its familiar place around her waist. _Think about the garden. And the muktok. We’ll see it again. Let me work on a plan, and not too long from now we can take a nice stroll on shore of the Opal Sea on the holodeck. Not a Ferengi or another soul in sight._

What he wasn’t saying was that it would be different. It always was. By necessity. Somewhere in that second year or so on the Enterprise, they’d reached a comfortable agreement: when their shore leave and vacation overlapped, it overlapped. They enjoyed their time and each other. What happened off ship, stayed off ship. But a starship, especially a flagship, necessitated a certain formality. And he was the First Officer. And they were both senior staff.

There was no way to judge how long the tirade from the guard lasted. But they sat unmoving, staring at the wall across from them. She flinched, but Will managed not to, when the Ferengi finally slapped at the force field in anger. He stalked away at last, and a few minutes later a tray with some items materialized on the small table at the back of the cell.

Will was the one to investigate. He moved slowly, not wanting to give the offering too much importance, though she knew he was at least as hungry as she was. She was thankful he was the first to taste the offerings. While Deanna enjoyed plenty a gourmet dessert, she was never as gastronomically curious as he was. And it was more than mere curiosity. She was always more sensitive to everything than he was—from the temperature, to emotions, down to food and spices. While she loved her role in diplomatic relations, it had taken some work for Beverly to find just the right concoction for a hypospray that she could reliably use before their meals when they were invited by hosts and ambassadors. More than once she had ended up in sickbay from a combination of spices or foods that her sensitive system simply couldn’t handle.

He finally brought everything back to the bench, offering up a flat item that was somewhere between a loaf and a biscuit. “Can I offer you an appetizer?”

Her first taste was cautious. It was dense, and didn’t have very much in the way of flavor. Right now it wasn’t up there with chocolate by any means, but at least it wasn’t gagh. “If this is your idea of a small café for lunch, you’re slipping.”

“I’m wounded,” he countered, leaning back as though actually offended. “How about a rain check?”

Her eyes lifted to meet his, and though she had sensed his disappointment with how their leave was turning out, the intensity of it in his gaze was stronger than she had expected. _We both wanted so much more._ It took several moments to chew the bite enough to swallow it down with the help of a sip of water. “How about this… Angel Falls. The next time we return to earth?”

He lifted his cup to hers, and they clinked the plastic material together gently. “It’s a date.”


	3. The Impasse

Dexterity was a precious commodity, and Deanna only wished she could enjoy this display of Will’s intelligence more thoroughly. Distractions and schemes are touchy things. Some distractions are subtle and catch others by surprise. And some are an accumulation of sheer bluster and personality. She excels at the first type. She has used her calm and deep study of psychology to distract and play her own strategies when needed.

Will can do this, too. He’s cagey, smooth, and charming. Between poker, chess, war games, and any number of missions and incidents, she’s had a front row in his masterclass.

But he’s also large and hard to miss. He can leverage this, too, to his favor. Noise, demands, and a lean or a glare can get him very far. He’s using both with their captor and these long rounds of chess. She knows he could have won in fifteen moves or less.

He won the first round, stretched it into a long play. Passed up any number of opportunities to end it swiftly and ruthlessly. It gave her a chance to nap for a bit. And set up legitimacy for his own complaint of standing too long as he teased out a second game. Feigned disinterest. Maybe that wasn’t true. He wasn’t particularly interested in chess. At least not in this particular game.

Deanna can sense the strategies that go far beyond the chess board. His angles have given him a partial view of the brig layout. He’s had time to sneak several overviews of the panels and realized their potential. And he’s still trying to figure out when to make his final sequence. Not to end the chess game, but to begin to put action to the plans and contingencies he’s forming.

He complains that it’s hard to see the board. And Deanna almost laughs at this. She’s known Will to play blindfolded before, moves called out in sequence. His mind can hold the entire board, visualize the moves, keep track of which piece is where, and still win handily.

She does her best to be quiet, to quiet her mind. Food and the short nap helped. But she _is_ still cold enough that she can’t relax. It’s unlike her not to be able to sit still. She does it for long stretches of time during counseling sessions, going especially still and quiet when a patient is on the cusp of epiphany. She’s trying not to distract her mother, either, but her thoughts search out Lwaxana’s as often as she had called for her parents as a small child with a very over-active imagination when she should have been sleeping.

Deanna catches herself right as her mind is turning to her mother again, pulling herself back as she remembers the last time she reached out. Her stomach turns at the thought of her mother and DaiMon Tog. Her mother’s revulsion at the reception is all too real in Deanna’s memory, and she is _not_ okay with Lwaxana doing _that_ , even if it’s an attempt to keep Deanna and Will safe. Betazoids are free with many things, but they also are repulsed by forced or non-consensual situations.

She can’t stand to sit still, so she’s pacing the cell and in motion. Her arm isn’t as sore as it was, but she welcomes the dull ache that distracts her. It’s not a great coping mechanism, but she’s aware there are far worse ones. It’s certainly going to be an interesting conversation with her counselor on subspace, well, whenever they get out of here. That poor, amazing woman had helped Deanna through so much already. Her counselor could write entire volumes on the psychological effects of space exploration and its impact on the psyche. More than once her counselor has said that for someone facing as much uncertainty, Deanna was generally handling it well. More than once, Deanna had felt like a complete wreck. She had learned to deeply appreciate one of the few conversations where she could simply exist, without having to be the calming presence in the room. For someone who spends eighty percent or more of the conversation listening, it’s still hard to talk about herself for that long.

Deanna expected it would be easier when Will was outside of the cell. She tried _not_ to hover at the opening. Tried to act casual as she took Will’s abandoned seat. Tried her hardest to focus on a breathing exercise. But she couldn’t settle on _which_ one to use. She felt like a liability to both her mother and Will—she couldn’t do anything to help either one right now, nor to help them find a way off the ship. And while she didn’t want her mother here alone, a thousand “what-ifs” were playing through her mind, all while she watched the chess game intently.

Will shifted on the padded stool, his shoulders stiffening. He gave a slight shake of his head in irritation, as though trying to clear his thoughts and refocus. On some level, she was distracting him.

She took a slow breath in, held in for a four count, and then released it even more slowly. Beneath her, she could feel the lingering warmth on the padded bench from where Will had been sitting for some time before leaving the cell. And another small gust of cool air from the intake made her shiver slightly. This time she welcomed the distraction.

When he finally made his move, Deanna both saw and felt his surprise flare of pain in Will’s hand. She wasn’t familiar with much about Ferengi anatomy, but the skull seemed particularly dense. Hopefully he hadn’t broken anything. At any rate, it felt like a victory to be helped out of the cell. She felt a little safer on the same side of the force field as Will. Even if it was an illusion and re-capture was only meters away.

Deanna was relieved to have at least a small something to do. She’s the connection to her mother, and it was utter relief to see that her mother has once again used her own eclectic blend of charm and firmness to keep things… appropriate.

 _You’re so prudish, Little One,_ her mother chided. _Those humans have influenced you too much._

A day or two ago, Deanna would have chafed and argued. Protested. For now, she was simply glad that her mother is distracting their captor. And thankful that Will has such a wider understanding of ship systems than she could ever hope to have. Her position and degree from the university and time at Starfleet have put her in the rank of Lieutenant Commander. But the only time she really feels like she’s acting in that position is when she’s acting as Diplomatic Officer. She _knows_ her skills and services in that role have more than earned her right to have the rank.

Yet, she has struggled far more with imposter syndrome as an officer than she ever did as a graduate and doctoral psychology student. She was not a fan of the older uniforms when she first began to serve on Starfleet ships. Her reasons for preferring more casual versions of the standard uniform, however, go far beyond the way the top piece often rides up and requires adjusting. And beyond the fact that it’s difficult for people to relax and open up about personal or professional challenges when she’s wearing the uniform of their authority. But this echo of imposter syndrome has made her consider, once or twice in passing, taking the bridge officer’s test. To prove she can handle command. To prove it to herself. But there are portions, like the engineering section, that continue to make her inclined to reconsider an attempt.

Uniform or not, Will has brought his singular focus to the console. She wonders idly how much Ferengi or glyphs he can read and how much is instinct. It does seem naïve not to have anticipated the need for access codes. She should have predicted that, knowing how the Ferengi are so insular, how they prefer to keep everything to themselves. In a civilization that thirsts for money and power, of course the risks would be too great to a DaiMon to leave even internal systems without security features—lest some lower ranking crew try to usurp power.

It’s a surprise to both of them when their attempt is denied. And she could sense the wariness in Will, his resolve grinding down by the moment. They’re both drained. He has dark circles under his eyes, his usually tidy beard is attempting to grow full-out, and his hair is mussed in the way she only sees in the rarest of occasions. Mentally, she can sense he is scrambling for a Plan B.

Reaching out to her mother was easy, but the wait time for answers stretched out.

Beside her, Will tried several other combinations to probe the restrictions of the console. By the third attempt, he pressed his head against the console and gave a huff of frustration. “I’m afraid if I keep trying, I’m going to trigger some kind of alert. We’re no good to her or ourselves if we get locked back in there. Especially if someone comes to investigate and finds our friend. I don’t know what their shift changes look like.”

“I know,” she sighed, moving closer and giving his upper arm a squeeze. When he didn’t turn, her arms wrapped around him from behind, and she hugged him tightly. Her eyes closed, and Deanna pressed a warm kiss against the fabric over his shoulder. Her cheek came to rest against him, and she gave over more of her weight. “Will, you’ve done so much for all of us. We _will_ figure out a way to get off this ship.”

“Deanna, I don’t know what else—”

She sighed and tightened her grip around him. “Breathe with me for a minute,” she encouraged, a small smile crossing her lips when he found one of her hands and gave a gentle squeeze before obeying. “You’re exhausted. We both are. But we _will_ figure this out. And get back to Enterprise. And have real food—or at least replicated food—again.”

“And a hot shower,” he mumbled with a sigh. “And clean clothes. Clothes that are appropriate to space,” he added. His hand caught hers, drawing them back slightly so he could turn to face her. “C’mere.” Gently, he eased up the ruffle over her left upper arm. “How is this?”

It was nice to have this half moment, even if she can feel a shimmer of upset from her mother, the first signal fire that things aren’t going smoothly with command codes. “A little achy still, but better.” Her fingers covered the spot and rubbed lightly.

He pulled her against him, arms going around her for long moments to offer warmth. “Deanna… if it comes down to it, if we can’t all—”

Her head shook before he could even finish. “No, we need to do this together. All three of us.”

“If it comes down to it, you and your mother should—”

“No!” she protested, pulling back slightly. “I’m not having this conversation with you. There are too many things in our favor on this. If we can’t draw the Enterprise to us now, we can wait it out. We’re both officers. There has to be some trail that someone will trace back to Tog—between Data or the Captain or someone on the ship… Mother is an ambassador. They might be willing to gamble on any number of things, but even Tog and Farek will have to admit that they don’t dare incur the wrath of Starfleet. Or the other DaiMons if Starfleet pressures them.”

He pressed a warm kiss to her forehead. “You have a point,” he sighed, and she could sense he was irritated that he was too tired to have come to the conclusion sooner.

“You were busy getting me out of the cell and trying to signal Enterprise,” she reminded affectionately. “And I’m sorry, but I might have to delay those plans on the holodeck.”

“You’re breaking our date?” he teased wryly, and she was glad to hear the lightness in his voice, even if he was still tired. It meant that he was ready to do whatever they needed to do next.

Her head shook slightly, and she offered a small smile. “A raincheck. No offense, but I _really_ want a bath and to sleep first.”

“Your creature comforts,” Will teased. “With all of your bath salts and oils? What was it, sandalwood and…”

Her eyebrows lifted slightly. “Sandalwood is entirely your fault, you know. I’d never smelled or heard of it until you gave it to me all those years ago.”

His hand slid to her shoulder, thumb lightly tracing her collarbone. “Creature comforts,” he repeated, dropping a kiss to her cheek. After taking a slow breath, he chaffed her shoulder lightly. “And thank you, I’m better now.”

“I think we’re both going to be due a counseling session once this is over, but so long as only one of us is frustrated at once, we’re alright.” She gave his wrist a squeeze and took a breath to refocus, but before she could make any suggestions, dread flooded her and she froze.

“Deanna?”

Her eyes were wide when they lifted to meet his. “It didn’t work… Farek… He interrupted. Will, he’s going to run _experiments_ on her.”

“Experiments?” Will pressed, already moving back toward the console and scanning over the consoles again as if he might see something he missed before.

“Neural scans,” she grimaced, her own fear spiking in harmony with her mother’s. _Try to delay. We’re doing everything we can!_ Deanna swallowed hard and stepped out of Will’s way as he reached across the far side to bring up the strange grid and layout. “Farek thinks he can replicate mother’s telepathic abilities with enough probing and experimentation.”

Under his breath he let out a Klingon curse that would’ve made Worf speechless. “Like hell they are,” he grunted, “Grab that phaser in case this doesn’t work.” He jabbed a series of commands and smacked the wall beside the work station when those failed like the ones before.


	4. Denouement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter for this fic. It got far angst-ier than I ever thought this episode would. More stuff was dredged up as I wrote it. But anyway, it all needed to be said. Enjoy.

Family was a precious commodity, and Deanna has so little of hers left. Everything— _everything—_ in her being is screaming to fight for it. She can barely breathe as her mother is so calmly asking her to leave with Will. To let her make this sacrifice.

It’s horrifying. The only parent she has left is asking her to do _this_ of all things. _Just this once._ As if leaving her mother here isn’t a life imprisoned. As though she might have some sort of future visitation rights. But she knows too well that the moment she leaves this ship, she has little hope of seeing her mother again.

And Deanna Troi has already lost all of the other biological family she has. A father. A son. There’s not enough time for any of these thoughts to process. And she’s too stunned by all of her regrets about how she has spoken to her mother over the last days. Over her exasperation with this only parent she has left, who only wanted to see her happy in the way that had most made her mother happy. As a wife. As a mother.

She could’ve—and maybe should’ve—tried to explain about her little Ian. About how much it had hurt to see him leave. About how it had been real, fully real, and she _had_ been a mother. But now she wasn’t. And she’s had too many Troi family taken from her.

She feels like she’s on autopilot, letting herself be directed back to Will. It’s only Will’s arm on her back that feels real. That keeps her from throwing a fit. From objecting as ardently as Farek.

It’s worse that the last words she’s hearing are about _oomox,_ and it makes her stomach turn. She expected… something. Anything else. It’s like some holonovel. Or holodeck program. Deanna turns and strains for one last… something? A moment. Another look. One more word.

There is no goodbye.

There wasn’t a goodbye with her father, either. Ian Troi had given her a hug and a kiss and said he would see her soon. She’d cried quietly and tried to be brave. When she was older, she’d wondered if it had been a premonition. But Deanna knew too well to really think such things. She had simply been a little girl who didn’t want her favorite parent to leave her.

She knew her mother had been aware that her father was her favorite. And Deanna had felt plenty of guilt about that later. There was no hiding those thoughts and feelings from a telepath as adept as Lwaxana Troi.

It takes the nudge from Farek to bring her to the moment, and she shudders away from his touch. By the time she gains the corridor, Will’s arm slides around her, putting himself between her and the Ferengi. And it’s meant to comfort her, to protect her.

William Riker is the first person to make her feel safe since her father died. She’s not naïve, though. The innocent security of her childhood is something she cannot ever regain. There’s no planet or cave or corner of a galaxy that is truly _safe_. Disasters happen. Loss compounds.

 _Imzadi, we’ll find some way,_ Will is urging. She can feel the concern cresting as he guides her toward the transport area. He’s unsettled at the idea of leaving her mother behind, too. But he’s also desperate to return her to the relative safety of the ship. And Will is all too aware of the toll the last, well, whatever it has been, has taken on her. It feels like months. But she’s sure it’s not been more than a day. They’re both well past exhausted. In need of food. Their bodies strained by far too long without sleep. She wants to hold his hand through the whole transport process, but it has already started and completed before that thought has time to make itself known.

The increased warmth and ambient light of the bridge should be a comfort. Will’s hand on her back urging her toward their familiar seats _is_ a small comfort. It reminds her of her purpose, and it’s meant to do that. To pull out the last strength that she needs right now. When the captain asks them if they’re alright, she finally has the words.

It’s jarring to see her mother on the screen. In the performance of her lifetime, and there’s a moment of promise. A strategy to be leveraged, and it might not be the Queen’s Gambit, but it’s a strategy. And one that Deanna desperately hopes the captain can play out. As the Shakespeare begins, she finally relaxes into her chair. And certainty built that they were on the cusp of regaining her mother’s freedom.

There’s embarrassment when her mother makes herself at home so literally on the captain’s lap. And it is frustrating to no end that Tog is getting away with abduction. But they are off of the ship. They’re home, or at least she and Will are home. And her mother is safely on board.

It’s a relief when the captain steps to the helm to set the course for Betazed. And a reminder of the shore leave that wasn’t. Deanna can sense that they won’t have much more time than it will take to return her mother to the planet before they need to go. And she’s increasingly aware of her exhaustion. It’s terribly tempting to fall asleep in her chair.

“Ladies,” it’s Will, offering a hand and an understanding smile. Using that voice that is firm enough not to be ignored. It’s so much easier to follow his lead in this as he gives command to Data. The captain has retreated to the Ready Room, and she’s certain that the captain knows that neither of them are in any condition for bridge duty.

Even her mother grows quiet now, which is a testament to how much this has taken out of all of them. It doesn’t take long to gain Deck Eight and their quarters. It seems unnatural to part here, and for once in her life Deanna is actually glad to see Dr. Beverly Crusher waiting in her lounge to scan them for injuries. It’s an excuse to keep Will close for a little longer without having to specifically ask him to stay.

Beverly is already fussing over them before they can get through the door. If she wasn’t so tired, Deanna would find it comical as her friend tried to decide which of the three she should scan first.

“Deanna first,” Will insists, folding his arms across his chest and giving her a look as though daring her to disagree with him.

“Mother—”

“Doesn’t have a single scratch on her,” Lwaxana counters over her shoulder as she’s already moving toward the bedroom. “I’m going to make use of your sonic shower, Little One, and I’m sure between your replicator and your closet, we can find something that will be appropriate for the journey home.” It was a retreat to privacy, and the counselor in her couldn’t help but note it.

Whatever Beverly is saying is lost on Deanna because she’s finally hitting the end of her reserves. Every sense is suddenly dulled, and she can feel Beverly’s arm around her, guiding her to her sofa. She could’ve sworn the doctor was across the room moments ago. As she settles in beside Will, who wasted no time in gaining the sofa, he’s reaching for one of the trauma blankets and tucking it around her.

“Leave her left arm free,” Beverly instructs as she finishes her scan. There’s the slight not-quite sting of a hypospray at her neck, and now the doctor is sitting beside Deanna and digging out instruments. “… dehydrated, in need of a good meal, and this arm…”

Deanna shook her head slightly and both attempts and fails at a smile. “I don’t really know what happened to it… I woke up in the brig and it was tender.”

Two sets of blue eyes are scrutinizing her, but when Beverly glances to Will for answers, he simply shrugs. “No breaks, but there’s soft tissue damage,” the doctor tuts, “tendons, ligaments, and some minor muscle tears. I’m sure it’s been bothering you.”

The comfort of the blanket and the analgesic in the hypospray is almost Deanna’s undoing. In a short time everything has upended, and now it’s all back so neatly together. Securely. Her mother spared. But it’s like mental whiplash, and the reality and certainty hasn’t caught up with her. She’s reeling, and there is nothing to distract her anymore. She doesn’t have the capacity to even cry or laugh.

“Deanna?” Will is shifting closer as Beverly continues to restore the body with her various instruments. When the doctor is finished, Will gently tucks in her mended arm and lets his finger trace her collar bone as though they _had_ spent shore leave together. Like the last days hadn’t happened at all. Like Dr. Beverly Crusher wasn’t busy running a scan on Will. Like her mother wasn’t a room away.

The dark head shook slightly as though to throw off the tiredness that clung to them. “I’ll be fine, Will, I just need a nap,” she murmurs, feeling the ragged edges of the ordeal tugging at her. Her fingers curl into the blanket, and she pulls it a bit closer.

“You need a solid meal and naps and some full nights of sleep. And I’m not clearing either of your for duty for at least two days,” Beverly counters. “Ah, don’t you dare move that hand, Will Riker. Like you don’t have bruised knuckles. What, did you get in a bar fight?”

Deep blue eyes narrow to a glare as he glances out the port to the now-empty view. “Something like that.” Will sighs and relaxes a little deeper into the seat, his head dropping to rest against the back cushion. “I shouldn’t have sat down. It’s too comfortable.”

“Mother’s going to need something to wear,” Deanna murmurs, trying to gather some non-existent reserves and convince herself to get up and figure out what options the replicator has. But Beverly’s hand on her shoulder stops her.

“You’re going to tell me what you want to eat, and then you can nap there on your couch or go to sleep properly in your own bed.” Beverly crosses the room and when no actual order is forthcoming, she takes a minute to examine the last meals ordered and programs in something suitable.

As quiet settles over her quarters, it strikes Deanna how much she’s missed the calm. How much she craved the warmth of her cabin and its own environmental controls. Later, she’s not completely sure what she even ate. If Beverly hadn’t mentioned the hot toddy, she wouldn’t have much noticed it, either. But it’s warm and filling, and in the end she doesn’t even bring herself to use her sonic shower. Because by the time she eats, she’s doing good to make it to her own bed and curl up beside her mother, who is already in a deep meditation that will probably do her more good than sleep.

It doesn’t surprise her to find her mother asleep beside her and Will asleep on her couch when she finally wakes up six hours later. She takes a few moments to send a quick message to her own therapist. She’s going to need to debrief in a few days. No doubt there will be some reports to complete.

But for now, she allows herself the luxury of a hot bath, and both it and sleep and a meal have gone far to soothe the frazzled edges of her soul. Her lavender outfit is more appropriate to the rest of the ship’s environment, and she’s aware that her mother is awake by the time she finishes her bath.

 _Doesn’t that feel better, Little One?_ It’s a question, but it’s more of a statement. Lwaxana Troi is seated at the small table in the corner of Deanna’s lounge with a plate of barely touched oskoids and some other salad of sorts. She doesn’t blame her mother for leaving part of the Betazoid meal untouched—the replicator can’t seem to get the dish quite right.

She’s a little disappointed to see the couch is empty, save a neatly folded blanket. It makes Deanna wonder if Will moved back to his cabin to clean up, or if he got called out on some ridiculous or legitimate call. A thousand beings could certainly find a few ways to keep the First Officer on his toes. A ship’s counselor, too, for what it was worth.

“Darling?” her mother prods, drawing her attention back to the moment before taking another bite of her food.

“Much better,” Deanna finally answers with a small smile. “How are you?” She knows the questions will be brushed aside, but she also knows that she’s as good at sensing her mother’s emotions as her mother is at reading her mind. And so the question is more of an invitation or at least an acknowledgement that she’s turning her attention to her mother now.

Lwaxana’s head bobs slightly. _Nothing that won’t sort itself out in a few days. A little meditation, a little of letting my mind do its healing, and I’m good as new._ She finishes the last bites of the salad and took a deep drink of water before patting her mouth neatly with a napkin. “That much too serious fellow that runs the transporter called a little while ago to say we’ve entered orbit around Betazed. Now you and Will _must_ beam down with me and enjoy a little holiday. You both could use it so badly, and no doubt that doctor, too. I can think of a few friends I’d like to introduce her to. You remember Xander—”

Her head shakes slightly, though she offers up a small smile at the thought. She really _does_ wish she and Will had time for such things. “It’s Chief O’Brien. And that window of opportunity for shore leave is closed, mother. Unfortunately, we have other obligations with the crew.”

“But surely the Captain can see you both need this holiday!”

“Mother,” she crosses the space between them and places a gentle hand on her mother’s forearm. “I miss the Fifth House, but it will have to wait until the next time we are in the system. We’re both sorry things turned out as they did, but next time I will come to visit you.”

Lwaxana’s smile emerged at those works, and she enfolds her daughter’s hand in both of hers. “You’ll stay at the Fifth House with me next time?”

“I promise,” she assures.

“And you’ll bring William with you?” she presses, eyebrows raising.

Deanna’s head cants slightly as she considers it. “That’s going to be up to Will. If he wants to come along, that’s his choice. I’m not promising for him.” She is absolutely on to her mother’s game, but she isn’t going to put Will in a position where he can’t make his own choices. “And maybe I can convince Beverly to join us as a guest, too. But I think she’d enjoy getting to know Darius far more than Xander’s company.”

Her mother’s sly grin tells her that she’s found the right compromise. “And you must invite Jean—”

“No, mother,” Deanna counters firmly. “The Captain has his own holidays. That wouldn’t be appropriate.”

“But you ought to ask. He shouldn’t be excluded simply for being the highest officers on the ship.”

She shakes her head again and gives her mother’s hand a squeeze for emphasis. “Mother, you aren’t _really_ interested in him.” Of this she is fairly certain. Her mother can be capricious, but Deanna remains hopeful that she is right in this. Or she hopes she can maintain self-delusion if she’s wrong.

“Humans are so easily ruffled, especially the men,” she pouts. “Spending so much time around them is making you downright prudish… Oh, let’s not argue about it. Especially not when that ruffled fellow is going to call back any moment now.” She huffs slightly. “I don’t suppose I could convince the Captain that I have a pressing diplomatic mission to… where were you heading?”

Deanna shrugs, but she can’t help the indulgent smile. “I suppose that would be stretching it, even for you. Come on, I’ll walk you to the transport room.” She offers her arm and is warmed when, instead of taking it, her mother draws her into a hug.

“So like your father, he did his best to indulge me, too.” Lwaxana cups her daughter’s face and presses a kiss to her forehead just as she did when sending a young Deanna to bed as a child. This time she doesn’t chafe at the affection like she did days ago. “He would be so proud of you.”

“He would’ve been proud to see how you handled the Ferengi,” Deanna answers. Her smile is warm but watery, and Deanna takes her mother’s hand and doesn’t mind the usual parting chatting all the way from her quarters to the last moments before transport.

Lwaxana wraps her arms around her daughter and indulges in one more a kiss to both cheeks. “Promise me you’ll send word soon on subspace?”

“I promise,” Deanna agrees with a smile, particularly amused as O’Brien is increasing preoccupied and fascinated with the console in front of him.

Her mother steps onto the transport platform. “And give it some thought. Maybe you can convince the captain to circle back on the next mission. There are always plenty of spare rooms for all the guest.”

“I’ll put in a good word,” she chuckles, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. After everything, she is simply grateful her mother is back to her old self.

“I may be old, but I know how to capitalize on a good thing when I see it. Just remember that William is more than welcome—” Whatever else she was hoping to add, Lwaxana has de-materialized and is on her way back to Betazed.

Deanna carefully avoided eye contact with their transport chief, but she gives a nod when he mentioned that the captain was requesting her presence on the bridge. Apparently catching up on more sleep will have to wait. Her nap has helped tremendously, though she’s aware it will take at least a few more days to pay back some of her sleep debt. Beverly wasn’t wrong to say they were in need of sleep. Hopefully the doctor will forgive her visit to the bridge in the name of following orders.

The familiar scents and slightly-dry air of Enterprise are soothing. The turbo lift is familiar, and she can feel herself easing back into routine as though the last days hadn’t happened. Eventually she will take some time to process everything. But for now, even a short shift on the bridge is welcoming.

If it was worth summoning her, she is sure Will would be there, too. With any luck, it won’t be anything _too_ out of the ordinary. Maybe they would even have time to grab another meal in Ten Forward and start their plans for Angel Falls. The emotion is elusive, and she nearly gains the bridge when she realizes that she is actually missing Will. It’s almost laughable. They often have split shifts and don’t see each other for half a day or more.

She isn’t going to think about what it meant right now. Or how when she emerges from the turbo lift, he twists in his seat and looks as glad to see her as she is to see him. Or that when his eyes meet hers, there is something like emotional resonance between them. This bond they still share. Missing each other. A small joy at this reunion. Lingering tiredness. And a refocus on the next mission. There will be time to sort it all out later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all of your kind notes and comments and kudos. I appreciate them deeply. I'll be focusing back on my Deep Waters fic and also will be starting a new series based on Season 4's "Brothers" and the adventures of Faux-rents Will & Deanna as they deal with the Jake & Willie Potts while the boys' parents are on sabbatical (can we all agree this plot was really absurd? WHO leaves their kids on a spaceship that regularly gets into weird as heck situations while they're off on a sabbatical??)


	5. Angel Falls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought the fic was finished, but I had a few requests for Will & Deanna finally making good on that agreement to visit Angel Falls. It's set during Season 4 Episode 2 Family after the Borg attack. While Picard was mud wrestling in France, his First Officer & ship's counselor finally made good on their agreement to visit Angel Falls. I realized from the Stardate that the episode's star date (at least according to one calculator on star dates) sets it as opening on the night of Epiphany. Thank you to everyone who has been so kind & generous to comment. I treasure each kind word. Happy holidays to everyone celebrating right now. It's been a hard year and a challenging season. Wishing you all to be with people who love & support you and for peace in your world.

Mental health was a precious commodity. And a commodity that had been tenuous among the crew since their encounter with the Borg collective. Since the captain had been assimilated and recovered. It meant so much work for both Will and Deanna. He had assumed more of the responsibilities while she worked with Picard and with many of the crew members in the aftermath.

The last weeks had helped. As crew were able to take leave and seek more outlets and to relieve the large demand for counseling from Enterprise. Deanna had her sessions with her own counselor, finally giving her some time to process what she herself had been through. And Will was grateful for this. No matter how much she insisted the Betazoid brain was resilient, he knew that her empathic senses made shared traumatic events harder for her because she felt _everything_. 

While he had a crew to account for and assess the needs in terms of duties and shouldering extra responsibilities… well, Deanna had so much more. So many initial assessments. Various levels of traumatic reactions. Calls to sickbay at odd hours of the night as crew struggled through stages of recovery and loss. Many more late night and earliest morning hour emergency calls to crew quarters for crisis help.

But now, repairs were winding down. They could finally walk through corridors and it almost felt normal again. Whatever normal meant. And they would be back on route to explore soon. Leaving mere days for final shore leave. Transfers had been approved. Some new crew were joining. Some who were struggling significantly were going to remain here to get the help that exceeded Enterprise’s abilities.

Once again Will and Deanna found themselves at the end of rotation. To be fair, they’d taken a few days, more like half days, throughout the repairs. Deanna had been serious when she told Beverly that they were thinking about visiting Angel Falls.

And now they were making good on that agreement they’d made so long ago on a Ferengi ship deep in space.

Will could feel the shift in Deanna as soon as they stepped off of the transporter platform at the hotel. Rather than commenting, he slid and arm round her shoulders and steered her in the direction of the front desk. When she broke off to a lounge to their left, he let her go, knowing he’d find her again shortly.

Apparently the best laid plans did, in fact, go awry. Because they weren’t going to be visiting the falls for another two days. It looked like they might still be able to see it if the weather held. At the moment, he was choosing to be glad they were off ship, off duty, and as long as they weren’t beset by jungle pirates or abducted, Will would consider this a rousing success. He sent their things on to their room with a very plush bed and a luxurious Jacuzzi tub that he knew he would have to drag Deanna out of later.

Two of the hotel staff were kind enough to point him in the direction of his missing friend, and he found Deanna on the terrace. She was swaying to distant music floating on the late afternoon breeze and admiring the coral trees lining the courtyard. It was as close to carefree has he had seen her in months, her dress casual and sun warming her skin that was far too pale from months on decks.

“Slight change in plans,” he spoke softly as he came to stand behind her.

She leaned back against him, the movement casual and familiar. “I’m not even angry. Everyone’s so… excited here. I’m not sure what’s happening, but it’s a _good_ excitement.”

He pressed a warm kiss into her hair and wrapped his arms around her from behind, gathering her in a deep hug just for the hell of it. “It’s a cultural holiday. No transports til the day after tomorrow. It used to be a religious holiday of epiphany. Still holds cultural significance, though. Three kings bring all the kids gifts tomorrow morning. That’s the anticipation.”

Her grin was wide. “Only the kids?”

“I’m sure there’s some chocolate gifts for Betazoids,” he rumbled against her ear, his smile broad when she squirmed and giggled at the feeling of his breath and his beard against her sensitive ear.

“Do I have to wait until tomorrow?” she asked slyly. “Or can one of those kings drop it off a little sooner?”

His hand found hers, fingers lacing together, and he lifted her arm, dropping a warm kiss to the inside of her wrist. “Dinner or dessert first?”

Deanna swatted at him lightly with her free hand. “I can’t believe you’d even ask that! Who are you, and what have you done with the real Will Riker?”

“Dessert and coffee it is,” he declared with a laugh, swinging the hand the held hers and leading the way to the nearby café that the concierge had recommended. The afternoon was slowly yielding toward early evening. With any luck, they’d have a nice view of the sunset. And he’d been told they could watch the fireworks later on their own private balcony. Even without Angel Falls today, he was glad they’d decided to go to Argentina.

He found himself with an armful of Deanna Troi. An emotionally high Deanna Troi. A very playful Deanna Troi. She was trouble. “You’re in a good mood,” he chuckled, giving a little grunt of surprise when she pulled him through the door from their balcony and into their room.

“Everyone’s so _happy_ here,” she raved, giving his hand another tug as she opened a little more to him, and it felt a little like the rush of the first time he scored a winning point in Paresis Squares.

Will picked up speed and rushed in toward her, wrapping his arms around her from behind. It was much like he had held her during the fireworks. But this time he kept moving, and he spun them into a fast circle. It was giddy and spirited, and it was absolutely worth it to hear her laugh echo through the room.

He loved how he could enfold her against him, her body smaller but resilient. His fingers slid over her side, catching a few of her ticklish spots. She squealed and tried to wriggle out of his arms. It was devious, really, because she was so damn sensitive. He could touch her nearly anywhere and tickle her.

“Will Riker, that’s not fair!” she shrieked, words broke by laughter. She was twisting and doing her best to free herself from his hold. “You’re gonna pay for that!”

And she was sneaky. It only took a moment for her own fingers to find that spot behind his left ear. There weren’t many places where he was ticklish. But Deanna Troi knew all of them. It was enough that he eased his grip, and she darted just past his reach.

He had, however, a tactical advantage and let himself slow. “How, exactly, are you going to get out of this corner you’ve run right into?” his voice was pitched low and gravely, though his eyes were filled with mischief as he stalked her toward the couch.

Before Will could add anything else, a cushion came flying in his direction. “Hey!” he protested out of reflex. By the second pillow, he was ready and caught it easily before launching it back at her.

She was ready, too, and quickly ducked behind the sofa as it went sailing harmlessly over her head to collide with the wall. The room grew quiet, and she was now out of sight.

Mentally, he tried to calculate how many pillows were left. Exactly where they were now scattered around the room. Had there been a pillow in the arm chair earlier? Will moved stealthily forward, forcing his breath to slow and even out. Head cocked slightly in the direction of her last known location. Silence settled into the room.

His height was a disadvantage now, so he crouched slightly so she would have to risk giving away her location to see him. Will eased forward onto the couch, wincing slightly as the cushion gave to his weight and trying not to sigh audibly when it didn’t make noise. He licked his lips and took a slow, even breath as he reached for a remaining pillow. Moving cautiously, he rose on his knees, peering over the back of the furniture to find the spot empty.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the movement, and he swung.

Her pillow was there first, colliding with this shoulder. Deanna held tightly onto the corner, and shifted, bringing it back around in counter strike.

His forearm deflected her second blow, and he finally remembered the pillow in his own hand and began his own onslaught, pulling his hit just in time to make it softer than he would’ve otherwise. When she feinted to the left and dodged to the right, his arm reached around her waist and he hauled her to the couch and dumped her on it before gently pinning down both arms. “Okay, you asked for it,” he warned in mock warning before leaning in and rubbing his beard over her neck and bare shoulders

“No!” she protested, gasping between laughs as she tried to catch her breath. She scrunched up her neck, trying in vain to avoid him, but he only switched to the other side, teasing her sensitive skin and dropping in an occasional laugh.

His thigh pressed against her hip, keeping her from working her way out from underneath him. Lightly pinned while he dragged laughs and giggles from her because it was sheer bliss. After so much, to hear her happy and light and having given herself fully to play, it was beautiful. It was his favorite sound in any quadrant.

“Mercy!” she finally called. “Will… please… I need to breathe…” she protested between giggles, and her mood shifting in the way that he knew meant that her sensitivity was about to tip into irritation.

The last touch pressed firmer into a caress, and he felt her take a sudden breath in surprise. His other hand stroked back a loose curl that had escaped from her loose hairdo. Will’s eyes met hers and softened, and he pressed a kiss to her cheek.

Fingers threaded through his hair, and she still hadn’t fully caught her breath when her lips pressed to his. She urged him closer, her own body arching slightly toward him, other hand had his shoulder pulling him down. Every time they kissed he remembered again how damn soft her lips were.

Will eased back to speak, but before he could say anything, she was moving with him. Her lips were against his again, tongue teasing. And he hated to deny her anything. So he opened to her, and let himself fall into the accustomed pattern between them. He caught hints of the spiced chocolate she was drinking earlier, and the familiar taste that was _her_.

 _I’ve missed this, too,_ came the warm thought. Hers blending into his. It felt so _good_ and like regaining a missing sense. It was as intoxicating as the way her tongue teased him and her fingers toyed with the short hairs at the back of his neck

He finally pulled back for a long moment and sat up, pulling just out of her reach. His thumb stroked over her cheek, and he offered an affectionate smile. “I thought you needed to breathe,” came his gentle reproach.

“You’ve never been one to stop when a woman is kissing you,” she countered, pouting slightly. When he didn’t speak right away, she pushed herself up beside him and carded fingers through his hair, nails sliding over his scalp in the way that never failed to give him goosebumps. “We have all night, all vacation, Imzadi,” she murmured before capturing his lips again with hers.

For all of his upper hand in the play fight earlier, he was at the disadvantage here. And she _was_ a very good kisser. And very good at pushing every single one of his buttons. His own hands stroked, almost of their own volition, over her shoulders, and he pressed light kisses along her jaw, his smile curling against her always warmer skin when she tilted her head just so to give him more room.

Deanna flushed warmly under his attention, coloring and blooming like the coral trees that heavily populated the streets they had walked tonight. Anticipation was bubbling around her, and she had unconsciously allowed him a glimpse of the waves of anticipation ebbing through the city tonight. Her sigh was permission, whispered against the shell of his ear. But he stopped his exploration with a soft kiss to her lips and shifting back from her again.

Her bottom lip pouted prettily, and her hands caught his upper arm to urge him not to move too far.

Lifting his hand, he traced her collarbone before stilling its motion. He tapped gently right above it and waited a long moment. “You’re being influenced by the holiday. All of the people anticipating tomorrow and its joy. This is as far as we go tonight.”

“Will—” she started to protest, letting him into the depth of her own anticipation. “I’m saying yes.”

He gave her another gentle tap with his thumb, feeling her relax a bit more, giving more of her weight to the couch they were sitting on. “And if you still feel the same way tomorrow, after the holiday has happened and all of this build has released, then we’ll talk about it.” He wasn’t saying no. But tonight he wasn’t going to agree to yes. Not with so many emotions outside clouding her judgment. Another tap followed the previous ones, and she sighed.

“I never should have taught partner plexing to you,” she protested, though there was no reproach in her voice.

His lips quirked into a smile. “You love it. It relaxes you.”

“I’m not tired, yet,” Deanna protested, trying to capture his hand and urge it back around her neck like it had been before.

“Did I say anything about going to sleep?” He dropped a quick kiss to the tip of her nose, chuckling at her protest. “I will find chocolate for you. And I’ll cuddle you. We can hold hands. Hell, I’ll kiss you. But right now I’m going to take a quick sonic shower—alone,” he quickly added. “And you should change into your nightclothes. Something like those soft meshy white pajamas you like so much. But _actual_ bedclothes. And I’ll be glad to cuddle you all you like.”

Will pushed himself up and moved out of reach before she could catch his hand and tug him back down again. He was nearly to the door when she made her final objection.

“Will Riker, you know that _I know_ exactly why you’re going to the sonic shower,” she called airily, rolling over and giving him a long stare.

It took everything in him to try to close his mind to her. “I’m going to take a _shower_.” He turned sharply on his heel and set a fast pace for the bathroom and the sonic shower. Taking a deep breath once the door shut behind him, he began reciting Starfleet officer codes of conduct, followed by algorithms for the engineering systems, and when he lost track of all of that, he did his best to recall the periodic table in numeric order.

He had forgotten how beautiful she looked, drowsy and sleep mussed in the morning. Wearing one of his red undershirts because her sleepwear wasn’t really appropriate for the line he had drawn last night. While he’d managed to sleep in a bit, he knew she would sleep longer. And deeper. Some part of his brain always half expecting a red alert at any hour.

Deanna was finally stirring around ten hundred hours, and the rustling covers were his first clue. A tangle of curls appeared first, then above the coverlet came dark eyes narrowed in his direction. He’d expected her to still be irritated about last night. A bit snubbed by his decision. When he’d emerged from the sonic shower, he’d found her in the bed moisturizing with lotions while ostensibly reading from her PADD. When she finished her arms, he had tucked away the bottle and pulled her close and coaxed her into snuggling, which ended with Will falling asleep as she watched a program on her PADD.

Now it was mid-morning, and he knew she wasn’t going to be happy. So he approached slowly with a warm cup of dulce de leche in hand and a small plate of chocolate truffles.

She pushed herself up against the headboard with a yawn, one hand lifting and shoving aside the curtain of dark curls. Deanna gave a sigh as she accepted the cup and took a long, slow drink. Her eyes met his and narrowed.

This wasn’t going to be pretty.

“William Thomas Riker, I want to be mad at you,” she grumbled, settling the cup on the bedside table. “But you’re cute, and everyone is so incredibly happy that I can’t even be mad.” Her words were punctuated with a pillow swung at his shoulder to emphasize her irritation when he flashed a smug grin in her direction.

  
He caught the side of the pillow and pulled it out of reach. And then he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. When her lips parted, he popped a truffle between them and dropped a kiss to her nose, which wrinkled in irritation again that he was out of reach. It wasn’t what she wanted most.

Her eyes closed for a long moment, savoring the treat and the richness of it as it melted slightly in her mouth before chewing and swallowing. And in one unguarded moment, she pounced and used every bit of the mok’bara skills she had learned to pin him for a long moment. He could’ve easily tossed her off, but he let his hands stroke her side, making sure the touch was firm enough not to be mistaken for tickling like last night.

“I want to be _very_ clear that the emotions I’m feeling, which are absurdly happy today, are still _other people’s_ emotions. Like the anticipation last night. And it doesn’t affect my ability to give clear-headed consent,” she outlined, mouth inches from his and finally letting her lips join his for a long moment again. “I know why you said what you said last night,” she continued, dropping another kiss to the corner of his mouth. “And you were probably right,” another kiss to the other corner of his mouth followed. “But this is me. And you today. And we’ve talked about this before… what happens on shore leave, happens.”

Will let his fingers stroke back her hair, doing his best to tuck stray locks behind her hair. But there was so much of it. He could brush his fingers through it without it tangling. It took some core strength, but he managed to sit up. With another lap of Deanna Troi, and this time his gaze met hers and softened. He nodded and pulled her in for a slow kiss, mouth opening to hers. _If we can’t go to the falls until tomorrow anyway, there’s no sense in wasting a good day together._ The lips pressed against his curled into a smile.

Deanna could feel the burn in her calves by the time they finally gained a full view of the falls. It was deafening and so beautiful that she was moved to tears. Will’s hand reached for hers, and he urged her just a bit further ahead to a flat rock where they could sit and simply take in the scene.

They could’ve teleported closer to the falls. But there was only a day and a half left before they had to return to Enterprise. They’d both wanted to spend some time in nature. Breathing fresh air. Exercising a bit. Savoring the outdoors.

Thick clouds rolled dramatically over the top of the cliffs. Mist billowed thickly at the bottom and churned the stream at the bottom into white froth. It was dramatic and stunning. And worth every cramp and bruised muscle. Besides, she knew perfectly well that they would use the closer teleport back to their hotel. She could soak in their Jacuzzi tub as long as she wanted.

 _I’m thinking massages when we get back,_ he shared, the water too loud to permit any conversation below shouting. His arm slid casually around her back, and she could sense his joy in their shared adventure. The conversation they’d had on the earlier part of their journey about traditions. Promising to take him to Betazad some spring for the annual celebration at the peak bloom. It had traced back to ancient fertility rites.

 _Thank you for making this happen,_ she responded silently. Giving his hand a gentle squeeze, Deanna opened more to him than she had this whole holiday. She shared the depth of her gratitude. The sense of how much she had needed this, time to get away. To be a person, outside of her role on board. To be freed from the stark reminders of the dark times they had seen. To feel warmth of the sun on her skin.

After a day of anticipating and a day of joy and rapture from the holiday happening around them, even this felt like a respite. To only have a few people around. And to narrow down her sense to herself and to Will. And to remember all of the beautiful things they could share and could be together.

The advantages of her bond meant that she could simply be. And enjoy. Without having to question one another if they were getting bored or ready to go. He’d had the foresight to bring along a snack and water, which they enjoyed when hunger and thirst drew them from the phenomenal view.

It was the shifting light into mid and later afternoon that finally forced them to move on. They helped each other through the rockiest places, Will aware her legs were over taxed. Deanna knowing that his back was bothering him in that one spot that always got knots. When they finally gained the teleport station and waited a few moments for their turn, Deanna found his hand again and pressed it to her lips.

“Thank you for today,” she said softly, knowing the words were small but that he would understand the fullness of them.

“Of course, _Imzadi_ ,” the special name came more easily from his lips than hers. But it always banded around her like a warm hug. “Maybe in the next few years we can find our way back here again.”

“Under even better circumstances, I hope,” she agreed, her smile soft but warm.

Their names were called over the speaker now, and his arm slid around her to help her take that last painful step onto the platform when she wanted to sit down instead. “I’m holding you to that,” he murmured, dropping a kiss to the top of her head and using his First Officer tone to call out to the tech, “Energize!”


End file.
